


Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Angel Castiel, Angel Kink, Angel Marking, Angel Mating, Angel Sex, Christmas, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, Enochian, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Grace Kink, Grace-Powered Orgasms, Halo Kink, Handprint Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Possessive Castiel, Protective Castiel, Sexual Tension, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5527853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Castiel has his grace back, Dean worries his angel has lost sexual interest in him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Astrophilla  
> Beta'd by sunshinewinchesters
> 
> Type: Canonverse AU, somewhere around S9 where Cas gets his grace back, established Castiel/Dean, established Gabriel/Sam
> 
> **The finale of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**
> 
> Other notes: This is the first part of the finale, the second comes on Christmas day as chapter two!

After an hour of working himself up, of going to speak but then changing his mind, Dean finally slid his eyes away from the weird Christmas infomercials playing on the TV screen and took a deep, shaky breath. “Sam?”

Castiel and Gabriel were out somewhere running Heavenly errands, so Dean could finally get Sam on his own without his dickbag boyfriend listening in. Now that it came down to it though, he was struggling to choke out the words. God, this was mortifying.

Sam lifted his head from his laptop screen in brief acknowledgement before returning his gaze back down. “What’s up?” 

“I’m worried about Cas,” Dean sighed, leaning forward in his chair and rubbing a hand over his face.

That made Sam’s fingers skid to a halt on the keyboard. “Cas? What, why? Is it his grace?”

Which, Dean considered, was probably part of the problem. Three weeks ago, after a year as a human, Gabriel had found a way to return Castiel’s stolen grace to him. Now he was back to his fully-powered self, the human Cas that Dean had finally grown the backbone to admit his feelings to, and had been dating ever since, gone. Dean had been so excited to get the angel back, for his boyfriend to be truly himself again, but things hadn’t gone quite the way he’d hoped. 

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, and shook his head. “Naw, angel Duracell seems to be working out pretty well for him.” 

“Then what is it?” Sam asked, brows furrowed. 

“It’s…” he trailed off, letting out a heavy breath. “I don’t think he wants me anymore, Sam.”

His brother sat silently for a second before his thought processes could reboot. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to run that one by me again,” he said, face frozen.

Dean swallowed thickly. Fuck, it was bad enough having to say it the once. “I don’t think he wants me. Now he’s all juiced up again.”

“Dean, that’s gotta be one of the most ridiculous things you’ve ever said,” his brother scoffed, shutting his laptop screen. “What makes you think he doesn’t want you?”

“It’s not—I know he’s in, y’know, love with me, that’s pretty easy to see. I just, I think that now he’s got his mojo back, he’s… not in lust with me anymore.”

Sam blinked, face contorting in bemusement. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dean let out a heavy breath, covering his burning cheeks with his hands. “When we’re alone together, it’s like he’s working overtime to distract me. I bring up going to bed and he’s been summoned to Heaven, he’s got presents to wrap, he’s got a migraine. I just… I don’t think he’s attracted to me like that anymore. Or, little Cas, that is,” Dean shrugged weakly.

Sam let out a huff of breath, shaking his head. “Dean, he’s not gonna stop wanting you just because he’s an angel again. Gabriel and I—”

Dean cut him off with a scowl. “Gabriel was a pagan deity for fuck knows how long,” he snapped. “You could be an _actual_ moose and he’d still wanna get down and dirty.”

Sam gave an exasperated laugh. “The way he looks at you is the way he’s always looked at you, Dean. Yeah, it’s gotta be hard on him, this being his first relationship as an angel after who knows how many millennia of abstinence, but grace or not, he’s still the same Cas. You just gotta give him time.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, “yeah, okay.”

And fuck, did he hope his brother was right. But another week went by, and still, Castiel was shutting him out. Dean was trying to make the best of a bad situation, but it was seriously starting to grate him down. He was no sex addict, but they’d had a damn awesome sex life before, and now that it was cold turkey, Dean was… he was struggling.

“What are we doing?” he asked a few days later as he tiredly walked into the den, the floor of which was covered in grocery bags and bean bag chairs.

“Making s’mores!” Gabriel grinned from Sam’s side, pulling a giant box of graham crackers from one of the bags. “Pull up a beanbag, Deano.” 

Dean watched as Castiel tentatively licked at the dusting on the marshmallow he was holding before popping it inside his mouth, humming contentedly as he chewed. God, did Dean love that mouth. “Isn’t that campfire food?” he croaked out, trying to drag his eyes away.

“Well, we have a fire,” Gabriel shrugged, “and Cassie’s never tried them before. So why not?”

“Fair enough,” Dean shrugged awkwardly, taking the bean bag beside Cas.

“Show Cassie how ya make ‘em,” Gabriel ordered him, throwing them the bar of chocolate. Dean grunted his assent, guiding Castiel’s hand holding the skewered marshmallow over the fire roaring away in the fireplace. 

“So you wanna toast your marshmallow, not burn it,” he told the angel, showing him how to move his wrists. “You gotta keep rotating it till it’s golden brown all over, and when it gets a little mushy, you know it’s done.”

Castiel nodded, following the instructions carefully, giving Dean a pleased little grin when they pulled the cooked marshmallow out. “Thank you for helping me,” Castiel said, pressing an all-too-brief, sugary kiss to Dean’s mouth. He found himself almost leaning in to follow the angel as he pulled away, and fought to pull back with an internal shake of his head, licking at the sweetness left on his lips.

“What next?” Castiel asked, bringing Dean from his reverie.

“Uh,” Dean rasped, clearing his throat. “You gotta break up your graham cracker and put your chocolate on top. Now that your marshmallow’s done, you lay it on the chocolate,” he instructed, guiding the angel’s hands carefully, “put the other cracker on top, and squeeze down until you can pull the stick out. Then you got yourself a s’more.”

The angel smiled proudly down at their creation, and Dean’s chest ached. 

“Looks good,” Dean said, handing it to Cas. “It should be cool enough to eat now, just be careful.”

Castiel assessed it briefly before taking a large bite, and the marshmallow splurted out of the cracker, dribbling down the angel’s chin. Dean could only watch, mouth agape.

Gabriel let out a low whistle somewhere to their side, chuckling. “Well, ain’t that a hot mess.”

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat, hands clenched to fists on his thighs. Fuck, he was in a room with an archangel and his little brother, and he was starting to get _hard_. He unclenched a single fist, only to dig his nails into his flesh. 

He stared, dumbstruck, as Castiel collected some of the sticky mess with a finger, pulling the digit up to his mouth and sucking it between his plump lips, slurping at the melted marshmallow. What he hadn’t scooped up with his finger, his pink tongue darted out to collect, and Dean was sure he nearly died watching.

“Mmh,” the angel moaned luxuriously, licking at the escaped trails of sugar. “I was worried I wouldn’t enjoy human confection any longer, but this is delicious.”

Dean stood, pretended to stretch, and all but ran for the bathroom.

“What’s his problem?” He somewhat heard behind him, but he didn’t even turn to respond. Fucking fuck, why couldn’t he get a hold of himself? He popped a fucking boner in front of his family, like an awkward preteen. He slammed and locked the bathroom door after him, hitting his head against the door in frustration. He loved Cas, of course he did, and it wasn’t about the sex, but it had been a whole month now, and his mouth, and his moaning, and Dean was _dying_.

Those pretty pink lips covered in thick, hot ropes of marshmallow, and Jesus Christ, Dean was scrabbling to open the fly of his jeans, letting out a stuttered breath of relief at the release of pressure from against his aching cock. He hastily shoved a hand inside his boxers, palming at himself, and his head fell back at the relief, head hitting the door once more with a thunk. It was fast and hot and messy, and within a few minutes, Dean was coming hard into his hand, almost biting clean through his lip.

He breathed heavily, eyes tightly closed. Shit.

After a while, and a quick ice water bath, Dean worked himself up to going back into the den. He looked like an absolute mess, cheeks stained red, hair all over the place, clothes mussed, but he couldn’t hide forever.

When he walked back into the room, just as he’d hoped the case wouldn’t be, all eyes were on him. “Where did you storm off to?” Gabriel asked around a mouth of s’more.

“What, can’t a man take a leak in peace anymore? Gimme a marshmallow,” he grumbled, flopping gracelessly back into the chair.

He tried to keep his head down, but Castiel quickly caught his gaze. The angel’s eyes were wide as he surveyed Dean from head to toe, and he took a slow, deep inhalation before stoically turning away.

Yeah, Cas knew. If possible, Dean’s cheeks burned even more as he angrily bit into his marshmallow. Like hell did they talk about it, though.

The next night, ‘Christmas Eve Eve’ as Gabriel kept calling it, had them setting up loveseats in front of the TV to watch Christmas movies. Cas was cheerful and affectionate around him, acting as if the night before hadn’t happened at all, and although it was frustrating, Dean was kinda glad for it. Dragging in the heavy comforter from their bed, the angel curled up on their designated loveseat with Dean, slotting into the V of his legs and leaning back into his chest as Gabriel started _The Grinch_. 

“A single Grinch joke comes outta your mouth about me, Gabriel, and I’m getting the holy oil,” he grouched as the opening sequence began. 

The archangel laughed. “Blue balls ain’t a good look on you, Dean.”

Dean shot him a deathly glare, but thankfully Castiel was too engrossed in the movie, and hadn’t seemed to hear.

As the movie progressed, his arms curled around Castiel’s waist and the angel languidly stretched out, resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s lips curled into a small smile. This was enough. It was more than enough. But about an hour in, Dean started to get brave. In a tentative move, he brushed his lips across the skin of Castiel’s shoulder, mouthing gently at the juncture of his neck. Castiel leaned in further, exposing more skin with a low moan, and Dean grinned at his little victory. Cas wasn’t running away. He was moving in closer, he was purring, writhing slowly under Dean’s touch. 

Casting a sideways glance at Sam and Gabriel, who were far too occupied with the movie to pay them any attention, Dean slipped his hands lower, rubbing in slow, tender circles as they moved from Castiel’s waist down to his upper thighs. His thumbs rhythmically stroked along the insides, urging the angel to relax further into his touch, and Castiel was responding beautifully, letting out quiet little mewls and arching into the contact the way he always used to. Dean was getting so drunk off the sensation, like a junkie getting a fix after a long, long month of abstinence. He was losing himself in the noises escaping Castiel’s mouth, and the racing of his breath that it took him a moment too long to register when the angel froze, turning to stone in his arms.

“Sorry, I—” he said quietly, going to pull his hands away, but the damage was already done, and the angel disappeared from his grip. “God fucking damnit,” he grunted, mashing his eyes closed. Cas had been responding so amazingly, Dean shouldn’t have pushed him, shouldn’t have made him uncomfortable, and now they were back to square one. 

“Where’d Cas go?” Sam asked, peeking his head out from their pile of blankets. 

Dean sighed, turning his attention to the movie for the first time. “Dunno.”

He put off going to bed for as long as he could, because he knew that’s where Cas would be. It wasn’t until the clock struck 3:00 am that he admitted defeat and crept into their room, stripping down into a shirt and underwear, and crawled into bed beside the rigid angel. 

Castiel was awake, there was no doubt about it. On the occasions where he actually slept, he made the most heart-wrenching little snuffled noises, inhalations quick and shaky, exhalations long and slow. Right now, Cas was breathing so perfectly even, a deep, rhythmic in-and-out that was as obvious a tell that he was awake as if he’d been sitting up and talking. Dean rolled towards him with a frown, staring at his tense back. When he opened his mouth though, the words he wanted to stay were lodged firmly in his throat, and he couldn’t get them out. Exasperated, he shifted over onto his back once more and stared up at the dark ceiling. 

One more night, he promised himself, cautiously sliding his hand across the mattress until he was _just_ touching Cas. One more night, but you have to get him to talk tomorrow. 

Dean closed his eyes, and for the rest of the night, feigned sleep.

The opportunity to corner Cas and make him listen didn’t come until they were midway through icing a batch of Gabriel’s cookies the next day, and Sam realized they’d run out of M&Ms. Dean refused to own up to binge-eating them for a sad, diabetes-inducing breakfast. Sam and Gabriel eventually relented in their witch hunt and decided to head to the store for a last minute supply run, on the condition that Cas and Dean stay locked up in the kitchen like Cinderella, making up a dozen more batches of frosting. 

So twenty minutes later, there they were. Silently, Castiel was leaning against the counter, piping patterns onto gingerbread stars. Dean looked up briefly, before fixing his eyes on the bowl of melted chocolate in his hands, stirring it lethargically while he worked up the courage to speak.

“What’s going on, Cas?” he asked lowly, voice coming out thick. “I don’t—I miss you so bad.”

The angel’s hands froze, though he said nothing.

Dean tried again, desperate. “Do you not want me anymore?”

“What?” Castiel frowned up at him this time. “I love you. Of course I want you.”

Dean snorted, mixing milk into his chocolate mess for something to do with his hands. “Just not in the nasty, base, human way, right? That was okay when you were human too, but now you’re a big scary angel again, fornication is above you, huh?”

Castiel’s brows furrowed. “Dean—”

“Fucking me into the mattress every night didn’t used to phase you before, but now I go in for a kiss and you bolt. What, I’m not good enough for you anymore?” Dean took a shaky breath, his grip on the bowl quivering as his anger built. “You won’t talk to me, you run from me, you shut me out, and I can’t take it anymore!” he growled, throwing the mixing bowl down on the counter. Its contents splashed up, hitting his face and clothes, but he hardly even registered it. 

Cas stood frozen on the other side of the room as Dean’s chest heaved, watching with wide, glassy eyes. He was like a deer in headlights, an animal preparing to bolt, and Dean knew he’d fucked up, hated himself for snapping at the angel, but he was just so frustrated, and, and…

And then, in a move faster than Dean’s eyes could follow, the angel was on him, arms a frantic vice around his neck, that hot, beautiful tongue pushing into his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Astrophilla  
> Beta'd by sunshinewinchesters
> 
> **The finale of our Destiel Advent Calendar!!**
> 
> (sorry it's a little late haha it's Christmas somewhere and totally worth the wait just trust us)

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean gaped, but before he could say anymore, the angel was gone. “Aw hell no you don’t,” he growled, marching for the bedroom. Not a chance. Cas wasn’t allowed to kiss him like that, like a man dying of thirst, hot and passionate and _perfect_ , and then just run away. 

No. Not this time. 

Dean quickly made his way to the door and swung it open, prepared to go down with a fight. He stomped inside like a moody bastard, but when he caught sight of Castiel, his limbs ground to a halt.

“Holy shit.”

The angel sat slumped over on their bed, head in his hands, but that wasn’t what caught Dean’s attention at all. What all but smacked him in the face, metaphorically, though they were big enough that they probably could have reached, were the enormous, ebony wings drooped across their mattress and spilling over the edges. The vast appendages quivered and quaked on the bed in time with Castiel’s heaved breaths, reflecting the low glow from the lamp on the nightstand in a rainbow of color, like light hitting leaked petroleum on a gas station forecourt.

Poetic, Dean almost joked to himself, but he was dumbstruck.

Hesitantly, terrified to spook him, Dean collected himself enough to edge towards the angel and kneel at his feet, a tentative hand on the angel’s leg. “Cas?” he asked quietly, fingers stroking Castiel’s shaking leg through his slacks.

“I can’t,” he replied, voice broken and thick as he pulled his hands away and met Dean’s eye.

“What can’t you do? Please, talk to me,” Dean implored, rubbing what he hoped were comforting circles on the angel’s skin.

Castiel shook his head, cheeks stained bright red and eyes glazed over. “As a human, I felt attraction to you, Dean,” he ground out. “Love, and lust, and want. But as an angel, what I feel… I was a fool to say that grace stifles and mutes what I feel. You are so far from just my partner, you are my _mate_.”

Dean blinked, brain struggling to catch up. “Your… mate?” 

“I was wrong to tell you that I want you,” he laughed bitterly, “though not entirely incorrect. I _need_ you, every fiber of my being cries out for you whenever we’re apart. Since regaining my grace, I’ve desired nothing more than to carry you to our nest, to worship you, to care for you, to have to fall apart in my arms, to give you everything I have.”

Dean chuckled lowly despite himself, biting his lip as his cock slowly swelled in his jeans. “I’m not… that sounds like something I could get behind, buddy.”

“You don’t understand,” the angel grunted, cheeks flushed a, beautiful, captivating red. “I can’t—I won’t. I’ll fight every instinct I have, everything within me that demands I claim my mate, if it means protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” Dean frowned in confusion, struggling to keep up. “What do you mean?”

Castiel swallowed heavily, meeting Dean’s gaze with pained eyes. “I’ve never… You know that you were my first, Dean. My only,” he emphasized, as if he was begging Dean to understand, “and that will always be the case. But I don’t know what I might do to you if I let myself go.” 

Slowly, the pieces began to fit together with startling clarity.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean said, face crumpling. “Have you—this whole time?”

The angel stared down at him with those sad, hurting eyes, pupils dilated and glassy, and Dean’s heart ached. “I need you so much that it’s breaking me. I have to listen through walls to you touching yourself, smell the arousal and satiation on your skin, and it’s driving me mad. It’s almost too much, but I swear, I will resist for an eternity so as not to hurt you.” 

“God, ya big idiot,” Dean choked out a laugh, climbing up onto the bed to wrap his arms around the angel’s waist and pull him in, knees on either side of his thighs. His head rested on the angel’s shoulder, and he inhaled Castiel’s beautiful scent, blinding relief spreading through his bones. 

“This isn’t funny, Dean,” Castiel croaked, but Dean was too fucking happy to stop grinning as he pulled away.

“Listen to me, Cas,” Dean said, cradling the angel’s face. “I love you. You’re my everything, my… my mate, I guess, if that’s what you wanna call it. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“Seven years ago I tried to introduce myself to you, and it nearly burst your eardrums,” Castiel said, eyeing Dean’s lips and licking his own like a hungry predator. “You can’t possibly say that.”

Dean preened under the attention, leaning in closer until their foreheads met. “Yeah, I can.” 

Cas’ eyes shone bright with trepidation, but so much adoration, that it made Dean’s chest hurt. God, how could he have ever doubted? Castiel was his _everything_ , and while Dean was worrying about his perpetual boner, the angel had been hurting so much. He should have realized, should have done something. He ran his thumbs in gentle strokes over Cas’ sharp cheekbones.

“So we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” he chuckled quietly, pad of his thumb slipping lower to brush across Castiel’s bitten lower lip.

“The elephant?” Castiel rasped, tongue darting out once more. 

Dean looked pointedly over the angel’s shoulder, back to the breathtaking wings he’d only just been able to drag his eyes away from, and Castiel’s blush returned. 

“Oh.”

Dean gave a soft smile, bumping Cas’ nose with his own. “Yeah.”

“They’re… I’m sorry if they make you uncomfortable. Wings an important part of the mating process, and it becomes increasingly hard to conceal them within my vessel when I am particularly aroused.”

The wings fluttered, like a nervous response, and the angel attempted to fold them behind his back, but Dean stopped him.

“No, they’re spectacular,” he breathed, reaching out tentatively with his fingers towards the soft, fluffy feathers that covered the underside. “May I?”

“Of course,” Castiel nodded, blind devotion in his eyes. “They’re rather sensitive.”

“Gotcha,” Dean smiled comfortingly, brushing the downy pinions with his fingertips. “Hell, I never expected…”

They slipped between his fingers like warm silk, and he tugged lightly at them in fascination, pulse racing when Castiel’s breath hitched. 

“Too much?” Dean asked, but Castiel desperately shook his head. 

“No,” he said with hooded eyes, chest heaving once more, and fuck had Dean missed this. “Perfect.” 

Dean’s breath came out shaky as he watched the angel tremor. “God, Cas. Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me,” he grunted, eyes wide with wonder. “You’re so beautiful.”

The angel was sucking in frantic breaths now, eyes drooped and glassy, wings quivering beneath Dean’s touch so much that they were almost vibrating. “I worried you wouldn’t think so.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Can you—?” he asked, gesturing for Cas to turn. “I wanna get a proper look at these things.”

Castiel nodded distractedly, shifting on the mattress until his hips were securely nestled between Dean’s spread thighs. Dean swallowed thickly, letting out a small groan when Castiel’s ass came into contact with his now aching erection. The wings lifted, no longer drooping sadly at Cas’ sides, and Dean could only gape as he watched them stretch out, the light catching them in all their splendor.

“May I remove our clothing?” Cas asked in a hushed voice, and hell yeah was Dean in favor of that suggestion. He hummed his assent, hands splaying across the angel’s sides and running around to his abdomen in slow strokes. Suddenly, the fabric barrier disappeared, both Castiel’s and his own. There was nothing but skin under his fingers and against his chest and his lips, and Dean’s eyes slipped shut with a contented sigh.

With a final soothing caress to the body Dean knew better than his own, Dean’s hands moved up to the angel’s tense shoulders, and slowly, from where the milky skin ended and the dark feathers began, let his fingers explore.

He alternated between deliberate strokes to long, sweeping rakes of his fingers, straightening some pinions perfectly and ruffling others, moaning at the way the beautiful wings felt against his bare chest and his rapidly hardening nipples. One hand splayed right under an arched wing, brushing against Castiel’s heated skin, trailing upwards until he was at the slick apex of skin and feathers. For the first time, Castiel cried out, his shivering body pushing back desperately into Dean’s hands when his fingers located a small, almond-sized lump under the wing.

He had no idea what he was doing, but Cas was practically writhing in his arms with every drag of Dean’s fingertip over that hard, leaking nub, ass rubbing Dean’s cock torturously with every gyration, so there was no way in hell he was stopping.

“You enjoying this, buddy?” Dean teased quietly, lapping at the skin of the angel’s throat as one hand raked through the sensitive, downy feathers, and the other pressed at the angel’s swollen little G-spot.

“It’s an extremely erogenous zone, my oil glands particularly,” Castiel whimpered, wrecked, “and I have denied myself your body for seven-hundred and eighty nine hours. Excuse my visceral response.”

Dean chuckled throatily, dropping his head to lap at the slick substance that his wandering hands had spread across the angel’s skin. “You counted, huh?” 

“I was painfully aware of each one,” the angel panted, pushing back into him. “Dean, please,” he begged, and the sound went straight to Dean’s cock, which had coincidentally nestled itself between Castiel’s ass cheeks, covered in the slick from the underside of his wings that had run down his back in thick, ambrosial streams. 

“What do you need?” Dean asked, dangerously close to the point of no return himself.

“You, I need you,” Castiel growled, throwing Dean’s hands off of him in a lightning quick move and pinning him to the mattress. “I can’t hold myself back from you anymore.” 

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Dean said as the angel crawled up his body, nestling between Dean’s thighs, lips latching onto the skin of his nipple.

“My Dean,” the angel mouthed into his hard, swollen flesh. “Mine. I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I know, Cas, I know,” Dean panted, arching his back with a groan as Castiel’s teeth clamped down on the pebbled nipple, and his tongue flicked it mercilessly from between them. 

“My beautiful human,” Castiel rasped, tugging at the hypersensitive flesh, one hand digging into his side as their hips rolled. 

“Want you inside me, Cas,” Dean panted, hands tight in the angel’s satin wings. “Need it, s’been so long. C’mon.”

Castiel shook himself as he pulled away from Dean’s chest, as if trying to clear the haze of lust from his eyes. His lips and chin were slick with saliva, and Dean’s heart nearly gave out at the sight. “I can’t—I need to prepare you.” 

“No you don’t, you’re all powered up now,” Dean grinned salaciously, pulse thundering in his throat. “You got grace to ease the way.”

“Dean…” Castiel trailed off, eyes rolling back in his head when Dean inched his legs a little further open and rolled his hips up into the angel’s own. 

“Please,” Dean begged, itching for more. 

“I don’t—I might lose control,” the angel ground out, thrusting his cock to drag maddeningly against Dean’s, and the friction almost had him weeping. 

With the last of his coherent thought, Dean gripped tightly at the angel’s back, coating his hand in the thick, oily substance. He reached down between them to stroke at Castiel’s leaking cock where it pressed tightly into his own, covering it in the dripping slick. The angel hissed at the heightened stimulation, head falling forward onto Dean’s as his hips thrust into his fist.

“Do it,” Dean growled, spreading his legs as widely as he could without pulling something, reluctantly letting go of Castiel’s cock in favor of twisting his fists in the angel’s feathers.

Through the thick fog of want and need Castiel nodded, reaching down to position himself at Dean’s fluttering rim and biting down fiercely on his lip. As a hazy afterthought, Dean leaned in and tugged the abused lower lip free with his own, soothing it with his tongue. 

_Please,_ he whimpered wordlessly, but those bright blue eyes looked deep into his, right down to his very core, and they knew. And with a final brush of tongue against tongue, fingers digging tight into the meat of Dean’s thighs, the angel pushed forward.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean whined, eyes mashed shut. The pressure didn’t hurt, exactly, but it was so fucking hot that it burned, he could feel every inch of the stretch, and it had been a while, and fuck, Cas was filling him more and more. He cried out like a dying animal, head thrashing on the pillow, begging for something he couldn’t even form into words. In a brief moment of panic he worried he couldn’t stretch any wider, but he knew he would, that he’d always let Cas in no matter what, and then the angel was crooning in his ear, whispering endearments and praise and encouragement, and finally Dean’s body relented. The head of the angel’s thick cock popped through his tight ring of muscle and he was crying, sobbing like a baby, but it was so fucking good that his vision was blurring at the edges, and all he could see, all he could hear and smell and taste and feel was _Cas._

“Dean,” the angel gasped, reverence in his wrecked voice as his eyes searched Dean’s face for any signs of suffering. “Dean, I need—”

“Yes,” he forced out through gritted teeth. He would have agreed to anything at all, would have said and done anything for Cas.

The angel pressed a wet, desperate kiss to Dean’s lips as his hands tightened on Dean’s thighs. He whined pathetically as the cock inside him withdrew, pulling away, and he wrestled for grip on the angel’s slippery back to stop him, but then Castiel’s hips were ramming into his own, and that perfect, thick cock was slammed back inside him at a punishing pace, and he threw his head back with a wail. 

He wasn’t gonna last long, not after a whole fucking month, and Castiel was nailing his prostate over and over with frightening accuracy. Dean’s hips fought to keep up with the pace of Castiel’s own, but he couldn’t, instead giving in to the angel and letting him take control, lifting Dean’s pelvis from the mattress so he could get deeper. Dean cried out over and over, fingers tearing at the wings cocooning him, but it only spurred the angel on. 

His own cock was in torment, pressed between their bodies and coated with the thick, burning oil from Cas’ wings, so that every bruising thrust tugged and pulled at it, until Dean was sure the stimulus, pouring in from all angles, would put him into cardiac arrest.

“Can’t, Cas,” he cried, “not gonna last.”

“Cover your eyes,” the angel commanded, but Dean would have sooner died than look away from Cas’ face in that moment. He was gorgeous, so ethereal that he was all but glowing, radiating with soft, warm light that danced across his limbs, kissed his skin, circled the crown of his head. No fucking wonder people said angels had halos, he thought deliriously, whining every time the angel’s feathers brushed his hypersensitive skin and pushed him closer to the edge. In the face of his defiance the angel struggled to look away, but Dean stopped him with a growl, twisting the feathers in his fingers, and dragging his gaze back.

“No,” he snarled, “not cheaping out on me this time. You’re mine, and I’m having all of you.”

“All of me?” the angel choked, eyes boring into Dean’s own as his hips snapped, filling Dean over and over and stretching his abused rim so fucking wide he swore he’d never be the same again. God, it was ecstasy.

“All of you,” Dean agreed brokenly, sweat running in rivulets down his temples, drenching him like the oil flowing freely from the soaked underside of the angel’s wings. 

He burned all over, the cock in his ass, the oil covering every inch of him, the hand clamped tightly around his thigh, but it was euphoric.

“Gonna come,” Dean sobbed, eyes frantically meeting Castiel’s own. There was so much safety there, so much protection and reassurance and _love._

“Let go,” Castiel told him, and with a sudden rush of something flooding into him from every point their bodies touched, and with the sharp, perfectly angled slam of Castiel’s hips, Dean was thrown over the edge.

As his body tensed and convulsed, hips thrashing wildly, the heat of Castiel’s grip ratcheted higher and higher until it burned. Dean gasped for breath but he couldn’t remember how to fill his lungs, and he was pulled down, down, down by the fire spreading through him, igniting every dark, hidden crevice, swallowing him whole.

*-*-*

When he awoke, sometime much, much later, Dean was cradled in the angel’s arms, Castiel’s warm breath on his neck, his thumb stroking reverently over his thigh. A quiet, soft melody filled the air, and Dean belatedly realized that the angel was singing. Although the words were unrecognizable, they resonated deep within him, soothing him to his core.

After however long of drifting weightlessly while he luxuriated in Cas’ song, he managed to crack open a single, heavy eye, but that was about as good as it got.

“Are you hurting?” the angel whispered to him as his melody died away, lips caressing his shoulder. 

A small smile stretched across Dean’s chapped mouth, and he made a weak attempt at shaking his head. He probably would be tomorrow, but right then, he was on Cloud fucking Nine. Lazily, his eyes followed the movement of Castiel’s fingers across the angry, raised handprint spread out across his upper thigh. 

Dean struggled to let out a low whistle. “Gave me a new tat for Christmas, huh?” he chuckled raspily. “Feel bad, didn’t getcha anything.” 

His eyelids drooped, and his head lolled against Castiel’s heated skin. Yeah, this right here was his idea of Heaven. 

The angel hummed contentedly, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple. “You gave me yourself, beloved. No gift could be greater.” 

His December had been pretty rocky as they go, seeming downright shitty at times, but as he drifted back towards unconsciousness now, Dean’s lips curled into a sated smile. Cradled in the warmth of the likely unsalvageable sheets around them, Castiel’s unyielding arms and the caress of his grace, the quickly approaching new year was starting to look pretty damn fantastic after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes our Destiel Advent Calendar 2015! We enjoyed writing these lots, and have really appreciated all your comments and kudos! Thank you so much for reading and for all your support!! 
> 
> We hope you had a merry Christmas, and wish you a happy New Year! 
> 
> xx Astrophilla & sunshinewinchesters


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